


bring me your war

by selenedaydreams



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selenedaydreams/pseuds/selenedaydreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ren is a failed musician playing at coffeeshops and bars. Hux shoulders the legacy of his father. One night it all comes crashing down and Ren is there to pick up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bring me your war

**Author's Note:**

> I was going for a rom com vibe but it turned out a little more angsty than planned - still, it does have the rom com vibes and the oh so cheesy musician!Ren and military man Hux who comes from an elite family.

It’s raining and it’s just his luck because when something goes wrong, everything else seems to go wrong too. Murphy’s Law or something, Rey quotes it almost religiously when she comes to visit him from college because apparently, every time she codes something correctly and it looks perfect, the little part of her that is never satisfied with anything kicks in and manages to ruin something that wasn’t even broken in the first place.

Ren never really understood how that is in any way applicable to his life because things are never perfect for him. Hell, if something is semi decent that’s a miracle. This, of course, is not one of those occasions, the only good thing that happened tonight is that he managed to remember to bring the giant oversized umbrella Leia had accidentally left at his apartment when she had visited him last.

There were barely any people at his show, if you could even call him playing at a café for a bunch of teenagers that couldn’t care less a show. He managed to make about a hundred dollars, though that was mainly because of a hefty tip from the owner, Maz. Probably out of some sort of maternal guilt, no doubt.

The rain is soaking through his jeans by the time he makes it back to his apartment and just as he’s about to rush up the steps and into the poorly lit lobby, he notices a hunched figure sitting on the stone steps. He’s soaked to the bone, water drips from the hem of his pants and the strands of his hair. It’s only when Ren steps closer and into the lamp post light that he recognizes him as the cute yet very menacing neighbor from down the call. Hux, Ren thinks his name is.

It’s all sorts of awkward for a moment, Ren trying to decide if he should ignore him and run into the building because it’s more than obvious that Hux hasn’t noticed him yet. That would be incredibly harsh though and not to mention incredibly rude, he might not talk to his neighbors almost at all but he’d like to think he’s not a complete douche.

Except that what he does is even more awkward than leaving. Ren balances the umbrella in one hand while taking off his jacket with the other before stepping up to him and draping the dry jacket over his shoulders.

It’s then that Hux notices him, looking up at him with a dazed expression and it’s only in that moment that Ren realizes that those are not rain drops dampening his cheeks. He feels like he’s stepped into a private moment, like he has witness something never meant for anyone to see which is an entirely strange feeling considering that all of this is transpiring in such a public place where anyone could bear witness.

“Sorry, I just –”

“You just what?” Comes Hux’s harsh response. “I’m not a damsel in distress.”

Ren could argue, it would be so easy to tear down that idea but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a step back but doesn’t claim his jacket back because despite Hux’s rude remarks, his fingers have come up to clutch at the collar of the jacket, drawing it closer to himself. His knuckles are a bone white, gripping the fabric almost as if afraid it will the torn away from him at any moment.

Hux is an enigma he has barely scratched the surface of and Ren is starting to wonder if maybe going inside would have been a better idea.

“You’re soaking wet.”

There’s a scoff this time and if Ren’s honest, he probably deserves it for stating the obvious. “You think? Look, I don’t know what your deal is but you can leave now. I don’t need help.”

“I live in the building.” Ren offers, shoving one hand in his pocket. “You’re kind of in my way to get inside.”

There’s a soft ‘oh’ that falls from Hux’s lips at that answer and it seems to wash away the answer from before because the next thing he knows, Hux is standing up. From where he’s standing on the steps, he’s taller than Ren, towering over him now and yet still looking as fragile as glass. He’s shaking and from the way he’s still gripping Ren’s jacket like a life line, it doesn’t appear to be from the rain either.

When Ren steps closer to him again, he puts a hand between his shoulders blades. His jacket is soaked now too but it doesn’t really matter, what matters is that despite everything that has just happened, despite all of the harsh words that have just been exchanged, Hux is allowing Ren to lead him inside.

The lobby is empty, thankfully, because Hux is dripping water all over the floor and he would rather not be around in case anyone were to slip and fall. Hux’s red rimmed eyes contrast strikingly with his pale skin and despite the redness of his cheeks, his freckles are still very much there. The word angelic comes to mind but that’s not really a good comparison, is it?

The silence is less tense that Ren had thought it would be, though that might also be due to the fact that the elevator ride to the fifth floor has been significantly shorter since they installed the new elevators. Hux sways a little of his feet, marginally so, and from the corner of his eye, Ren notices that he’s trying to be as still as possible.

It’s odd, if he’s honest. Ren has never seen someone cling to their composure so harshly, trying to keep it together despite wanting to crumble with every fiber of your being. Between commendable and idiotic, it’s probably a combination of the two.

His mother always used to tell him that he was a caring person, he never really believed it, thinking he was too aloof for the word caring to even fall in the vicinity of traits that describe him. And yet, despite all of that, he leads Hux inside his own apartment even though his is only six doors down.

It’s only when they step inside that Ren remembers he forgot to tidy up the place before leaving for his gig. Not that his apartment is ever in a good state of cleanliness, it’s a miracle if there isn’t at least one pair of boxers on the living room floor.

This is even better though, because there’s a striped sock hanging from the dusty ceiling fan and the suit that he had worn three months ago to a job interview is still hanging over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

He knows it’s appalling but Hux doesn’t seem to mind, or perhaps he hasn’t noticed because despite the fact that he is still soaked to the bone, he sits down on the ugly orange couch with a sloppy wet slosh that has Ren visibly cringing and more or less running to his bathroom to bring him a towel.

It’s black and smells like cheap aftershave but Hux accepts is anyway, draping it over his shoulders before attempting to dry his hair.

Neither has spoken yet, Hux’s gaze seemingly permanently fixed to the floor in front of him while his hands work. Ren rummages through the kitchen in the meantime, finding a few packets of instant coffee at the back of one of the cupboards. It tastes like bean water, if he’s honest, but it’s warm so he figures Hux won’t really mind.

He does though, because when Ren tries to hand him the mug, Hux takes one glance at it before furrowing his brows. “Don’t you have something stronger?”

And yeah, maybe he should have thought of that in the first place because there’s a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels pressed against the corner of his countertop. He even has some shot glasses too, two mismatched ones from the several bar’s he’s played at over the years. The only problem is that after Ren pours him a drink, Hux reaches for the bottle in his hand and drinks from it with little finesse.

Drinks is probably the wrong word. No, he chugs the liquor, drinking it fast enough that Ren knows it _has_ to burn, has to feel so utterly uncomfortable but maybe that’s exactly what Hux wants. Maybe he doesn’t want to numb the pain, maybe he wants to feel something other than it.

When he’s finished, he clutches the bottle in his lap, leaving Ren with just the shot glass he had poured moments ago. He downs it in one go like you’re supposed to. It’s cheap, not his favorite, and from the looks of Hux not his either but at the moment he looks desperate enough to raid his bathroom for disinfectant if it’ll have the same effect.

“Do you often invite pathetic strangers into your apartment?”

“You’re not a stranger.” Ren tells him. “You live down the hall.”

Hux shrugs at his response, something along the lines of touché but even he has to admit that Hux has a point. He doesn’t do this often, not ever, actually. But then again, he can’t remember the last time he found one of his neighbors crying on the steps of his apartment complex. Cute neighbor, to be exact, because there’s a certain kind of selfishness behind is good deed that he won’t readily admit to.

“Still, I could be a serial killer for all you know, trying to lure you into your apartment with an elaborate rouse so I can murder you and harvest your organs.”

Ren cracks a smile at that because he knows what this is. It’s a diversion tactic. Crack jokes and spout outlandish one liners to keep from acknowledging the elephant in the room. Ren keeps wondering what that elephant is too. Family issues? Everyone has those. He’s personally very familiar with those but then again, he’s never been so struck by them that he felt the need to try and be washed away by the rain. Relationship issues? Yeah, probably. From what he knows of Hux, which is incredibly little to absolutely nothing, if he really thinks about it, he doesn’t seem like the kind that could keep a girlfriend long term.

Girls don’t like the doom and gloom type, story of his life.

“You’re not.”

“How would you know?” Hux taunts back. “How do you know I don’t have a woman’s head in my freezer right now?”

“Because the freezers that come standard with our apartments barely fit two boxes of pizza.”

Hux is still clutching the bottle, taking another swig from it to keep from speaking. He looks exhausted, far too tired to come up with anymore witty one liners as a means of distraction. It’s just him and Ren and the soft hum of the radiator.

“Don’t you hate when you have everything figured out and then all of the sudden someone tears it down with just a few choice words?” Hux asks and he sounds even more bitter than before.

“Yes.” Because Ren knows what that’s like. He’s familiar with the feeling of being a constant disappointment to everyone including yourself.

“Why even bother then?”

“Spite.” Ren offers because at some point in your life when success and fame slip away, spite becomes your only motivation.

Hux laughs but it’s quiet and void of any emotion. “Spite. Maybe I should try that.”

“Why do _you_ bother?”

Ren watches him bite the inside of his cheek. “Because I’ve never seen stopping as an option.”

“Isn’t that basically spite though?”

This feels like an argument, casual enough that it lacks the signs of a fight but still, Hux is waxing poetic arguments about the meaning of life and he’s a little sick of it. He’s always been a little sick of people that can’t seem to see what’s right there in front of them.

“Unlike you, I actually want to do something with my life, not play music for a bunch of degenerates that couldn’t care less.”

Ren shoves his hands into his pockets, balls them into fists there because he’s very much aware of the downfalls of his life without having someone point them out. He knows people don’t care about his music, the biggest question is how does Hux know about this. “You’ve seen me play then?”

“You play at every bar and coffee shop within a ten mile radius, it’s hard not to, especially since you insist on playing those stupid love songs.”

“Love songs sell.”

Hux is smirking now and it makes Ren want to take his comment back. “So, you’re a sellout then.”

“Yeah, well, at least _I_ know I’m never going to amount to anything unlike you.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Ren immediately regrets them, regrets the way he can visibly see Hux shutting down right before his eyes. His fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle and he drinks again, more forcefully this time as if he’s trying to prove something that liquor can say better than words.

Ren doesn’t apologize, doesn’t try to correct himself because it’s more than obvious that Hux won’t accept it. He’d rather seek solace from a bottle than from him. Instead, Ren gets up, padding over to his bedroom in search of some dry clothes that Hux would fit into.

It’s not that difficult, he’s a few inches taller than him but just as skinny. The pants might hang a little long but it doesn’t matter, they would be dry and comfortable, although he still doesn’t know what to do about the couch because there is definitely a giant wet spot, if not an actual puddle, where Hux is currently sitting.

After finding what he was looking for, a pair of worn out sweatpants and a Heineken shirt from when he played at that fancy bar downtown, he stalks back over to the living room to find an even bigger problem than before.

Hux is slumped against the back of the couch with the empty bottle of liquor placed neatly on the coffee table. How he managed to fall asleep in beyond him, the only part of Hux that is somewhat dry is his hair. He supposes it’s a testament to how exhausted he must have been, something Ren had apparently severely underestimated.

He stands there for a moment watching him and it feels so much like earlier when he had found him on the steps: a private moment, something he should not bear witness to and yet he is because this is by no means poetic. Hux is drenched and fast asleep on the equally as wet couch and Ren honestly doesn’t know what to do with him.

Waking him up seem rude, after all, he had invited him over. If only he would have foreseen this he might have just walked Hux back to his apartment. If only.

Ren is tired too though, it’s been a long day and he had planned on coming home and crashing on his bed as soon as possible so this definitely threw a wrench into everything. Murphy’s Law, how typical.

Walking back over to his bed, Ren grabs the comforter and goes back to the living room to drape it over Hux. Considering that he’s still drenched, he doesn’t know how much of a difference it will make it but it can’t hurt.

He’ll deal with everything in the morning.

**\---**

When Ren wakes up, Hux is still fast asleep on the couch, having moved into a laying position and currently clutching at the comforter. He’s drier than last night, almost completely so, and he looks just as peaceful. And if Ren hadn’t been so busy eying him up, he might have noticed his guitar case on the floor before tripping over it and waking him up.

Yeah, he should definitely clean as soon as possible.

Hux wakes up in a daze, looking around visibly confused before his eyes land on Ren and the events from last night come crashing back. He swears under his breath, throwing off the covers along with the towel that had fallen into the mix. The only word that Ren catches is Millicent and it throws him off even more.

“Millicent?” He parrots back, but Hux is already opening the door of his apartment and stalking over to his.

“You’re married?” He calls out as he follows him because that’s the first thing that pops into his head. Either that or he has a live in girlfriend. Ren doesn’t dwell on that thought though, doesn’t want to because doing so would mean admitting to those selfish tendencies he had felt last night after taking Hux in under the pretense of just wanting to help.

Hux almost slams the door to his apartment shut but Ren gets there just in the nick of time, catching the door in his hand before it could fall shut and following him inside his apartment. This feels like a more literal invasion of privacy and it occurs to him in that moment that he’s not quite sure why he had followed him but it was probably half curiosity half dissatisfaction due to Hux leaving so quickly and without a word of goodbye. He doesn’t except thanks but still, it was a rather abrupt departure.

The first thing he notices is that Hux’s apartment is clean, or rather, spotless might be a better word. A stark contrast to his own whirlwind of a mess. It even looks like Hux vacuum which if he’s honest, Ren doesn’t think he’s ever done. He’s not use he even knows where to get a vacuum.  

The second thing he notices is that there is no woman in the apartment, at least none that can be seen or heard. Instead, an orange tabby cat comes sauntering from around the corner of the living room and greets him with a loud meow.

“Millicent is your _cat_?” Ren asks as soon as Hux joins them. “You ran out of my apartment to see your cat?”

Hux is glaring at him now, crossing his arms before stepping in front of the cat so that she is hidden behind his legs. “And you’re inside my apartment because…?”

“Because you ran out of mine.”

“I’m sorry, did you want me to cook you breakfast in bed? Show my gratitude for your kindness in some way?” There’s an edge to his tone that wasn’t there last night. “I never asked you to take me in and I certainly never asked for your help.”

On some level, Ren knows he deserves this. Hux wasn’t drunk enough last night to forget his harsh comments or the argument that wasn’t really an argument that transpired between them. He suddenly feels incredibly unwanted and the cold front Hux is putting forth only solidifies his decision to leave.

The last thing he says before shutting the door is, “You didn’t have to ask me.”

**\---**

Ren doesn’t see Hux for the rest of the week, tries not to think about him either but that doesn’t go quite as planned because Hux always seems to be creeping at the periphery of his mind.

The empty bottle of Jack Daniels still sitting on his coffee table is a distant reminder of what happened all those nights ago and yet he can’t bring himself to throw it away. He blames it on his own messy attitude towards life but deep down he knows that’s not the case.

He still plays gigs at the local coffee shop down the street, for some unknown reason they keep calling him back and Ren has the suspicion that his mother must have gotten in contact with Maz again and more or less begged her to give him more jobs. It’s the only feasible explanation since it doesn’t seem like anyone is actually enjoying his music.

One night, he thinks he sees Hux in the crowd, it’s hard to miss a redhead, especially with the way the light reflects off his hair. Still, by the time he finished his set and goes out to look for him, he was nowhere in sight, leaving Ren to wonder if he imagined it all.

One week later when he comes home, there is someone on the balcony at the end of the corridor. He thinks nothing of it at first, ignoring it and almost going inside his own apartment before he locks gazes with the stranger. Who, in fact, is not a stranger and despite the lack of an invitation, Ren hoists the guitar strap back over his shoulder and stalks over to him.

Hux is smoking, slender fingers toying with the cigarette before he takes a long drag and blows the smoke into the night’s air. It’s the same silent treatment as before except now there is no apparent malice, Hux eyes the guitar curiously but doesn’t ask.

“Wooing ladies again?” It’s almost mocking except that once again, there is no ill intent apparent, just curiousity in the form of what could easily be a biting remark.

“I’m not really into ladies.”

Hux seems even more intrigued by that, eyebrows shooting up as soon as the words register. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“No?” Ren asks.

Hux shakes his head. “You play gooey love songs about running away to Paris with your dream girl or meeting her on a train to New York, forgive me for taking those things literally.”

“I told you, those songs get better tips.”

“It’s a bit deceitful, don’t you think?” Hux asks, smirking around the butt of the cigarette. “I’m sure there are at least half a dozen girls swooning over you right now, thinking they have a chance when in reality they would need a dick to do that.”

Ren actually laughs at that because he has a point, it’s not exactly the most upstanding thing to do but rent is due every month and he has to eat, among other things, so when put in perspective, it’s not that bad. It’s not as if crushes on musicians ever amount to anything.

“You sound jealous.” Ren say, keeping his tone lighthearted but he wonders if there is some truth behind what he’s inferring.

“Me?” Hux asks incredulously. “Jealous? Why would I be jealous?”

Ren shrugs, he doesn’t really have an answer to that but it was a good guess, especially since Hux hasn’t actually given him a firm no response. Turning an inquiry into a question is not answer by any means.

“You came to see me play.” Another inquiry but this time he wants to know if he’s right.

The answer is almost immediately obvious, Hux turns away from him to graze back at the night sky, taking another drag of the cigarette before flicking the bud off the balcony and lighting up again. A nervous tick, it’s not that hard to tell.

“Have you ever thought that maybe I drink coffee.”

“You were watching me.”

“So was everyone else.” Hux says, and it’s a little harsh. “It’s the polite thing to do. Plus, you know how it is, when a train wreck is happening you know you’re supposed to look and yet you can’t tear your eyes away.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“You never asked me a question.”

Fair point. “Why did you come see me?”

Hux scoffs, balancing the cigarette between his lips and shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans for a moment. “Is it such a crime to want to see you play?”

“You just called me a train wreck.”

“Yeah, well, if you played better music I might change my mind.”

Ren is stepping closer to him now, invading his space in a way that seems to make Ren hyperaware of the close proximity of their bodies because he’s quickly stepping back and trying to regain his composure.

“Is that what you wanted to be when you were a little kid?” Hux asks. “A musician?”

Ren shakes his head. “No. My parents wanted me to be a fencer, follow in the footsteps of my uncle and start a new dynasty of award winning fencers.”

Hux snorts and yeah, that’s about the right reaction that someone should have. He almost expects him to call him out on trying to bluff and detract from his not so stellar current career but Hux doesn’t do any of that. “I know what that’s like.”

Before Ren can say anything, Hux continues. “My father, he wants me to be a military hero like him. You know, except for the fact that I’m still only a Sargent and everyone seems to be getting promotions except for me.”

Ren is blindsided by this information. Truth be told, he hadn’t spent much time wondering about Hux’s job or if he was even in college but he hadn’t had him pegged for a military man. Then again, maybe his apartment isn’t spotless out of necessity but rather out of habit.

“Is that why you were crying when I found you?” It’s a harsh question to ask but it’s also grounded in truth. He’s starting to wonder if maybe Hux hadn’t been heartbroken over some nonexistent girlfriend but rather over some not so welcoming conversation with his father.

“I wasn’t crying.” Comes the expected response. “But yes. I was in meeting with a few of my father’s advisors and one thought it would be great to point out the fact that I’m nowhere as successful as my father was at my age and that I probably won’t amount to ask much as he did and just become some washed up cadet.”

His hands are shaking at his point, Ren can see the way the cigarette trembles between his fingers and the fact that his drags have become more violent with each passing moment. It’s the same thing he did with his bottle of Jack Daniels and for some unknown reason, Ren wants to reach out and cradle his hands in his own.

He doesn’t though, and thankfully Hux breaks the unbearable silence. “Look, I have some wine in my apartment, _good wine_ , you want to move this pity party in there?”

The jab at his liquor taste doesn’t go unnoticed but Ren lets it slide, nodding instead at the question and following Hux back into his apartment as soon as he flicks away the cigarette between his fingers.

Hux’s apartment is just as spotless as before and when he serves the wine, it’s in matching crystal glasses, no doubt something he probably did to impress whatever guests he entertains. Probably military figures. Probably people who could report back to his father.

“You’re judging me.” Hux says, but it comes out more like a comment than a reproach.

“You’re trying too hard to impress people that don’t care.”

“Probably,” Hux frowns. “Are _you_ impressed though?”

“Do you care if I’m impressed?”

There’s a shrug before a self-deprecating smile slowly spreads on his lips. “And if I do?”

“I’d ask you to remember that when you came into my apartment there was a sock on the ceiling fan.”

Hux laughs, warm and soft and so much unlike the icy front he has been forcing upon him. Maybe it was all just an act. Maybe this is who Hux has really been all along.

Ren has more thoughts, more things he wants to work through but Hux is leaning to him, flicking his gaze from his eyes to his lips and suddenly all thoughts fly out of Ren’s head.

“Kiss me.” Hux whispers, and Ren follows suit.

He slots their lips together softly, kissing him with the kind of gentleness he thinks he deserves, the kind he must crave and in turn, Hux’s hands travel from his shoulders to his neck and up to cradle his face.

Hux doesn’t kiss as gently, he’s all consuming and greedy, pressing closer to Ren and kissing him like he’s wanted this for a while and maybe he has, maybe Ren hasn’t been imagining all of this. Ren’s hands find Hux’s waist, pressing them flush together and coaxing a moan from Hux’s lips.

When they draw back, Hux is looking up at him with blown out pupils and lips practically begging to be kissed again.

“I’m not going to break, you know.” Hux tells him, and he’s already working on unbuttoning Ren’s shirt. “I told you, I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“You’re pretty enough to be one.”

Hux gapes at him for a brief second, opening his mouth to say something but Ren swallows his words, kissing him again, a little harder this time and gripping his hips hard enough to bruise before hoisting him on top of the counter.

There is probably a part of him that’s screaming about the fact that they’re in a kitchen and this isn’t proper etiquette for a kitchen, but he wraps his legs around Ren’s waist instead, effectively drawing him closer and matching the fervor of his kissing.

It’s sloppy at this point, too much tongue and the occasional clash of teeth but neihter seems to care, especially since Hux is shoving Ren’s shirt off of his shoulders and throwing it on the floor.

“I wooed you without my stupid music.” Ren teased, kissing along Hux’s jawline and down his neck.

“Shut up.” Hux’s voice is breathy and he digs his fingernails into Ren’s skin at those words while tugging him closer at the same time. “You didn’t woo me. You’re hot and I want you to fuck me.”

“Is that so?”

Ren pulls back to look into his eyes, kissing him for a moment with the same slow, unurgency from before, all the while shaking his hand underneath the hem of his shirt to touch his skin. Moving his fingers over his hard stomach and up over his chest just to hear his breath hitch as they draw apart once again.

There’s an odd intimacy to their movements, both harsh and soft at the same time despite Hux’s words, this doesn’t feel like a simple fuck without any rhyme or reason.

“What if I fucked you right here on this counter?”

Hux moans, grinding his hips together and digging his heels into the small of his back. Ren, on the other hand, continues leaving a trail of kisses down his neck, grazing his teeth of his pulse point just to hear him moan again. It’s addictive, if he’s honest.

“Are you going to do it or are you just going to talk?”

**Author's Note:**

> I replaced being a Jedi with fencing in another fic and I thought it was rather fitting here too. Shout out to Millicent the Cat for being amazing comic relief.


End file.
